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"You're feeding them peas?"

Ursa looked up to find Ozai of all people standing and observing her feeding the turtleducks beneath the shade of the willow tree. "Yes," she replied, quickly concealing her surprise. "It's healthier for them than getting bread all the time. They need the nutrients."

"Huh." Ozai contemplated her answer as if he'd never considered the question of turtleduck nutrition before; which, realistically, he likely hadn't. "Why do you like them so much?" he continued. "They're just…animals."

"They're cute, they have personality, and they can be quite entertaining."

He cast her a look that made it clear he didn't think much of her rationale. Ursa supposed she sounded a little simple-minded, but it was the truth. She'd liked feeding the pig-chickens and other animals back in Hira'a for similar reasons.

"Watch," she instructed, picking up her last handful of peas and scattering them across the pond. Immediately, the turtleducks went into a frenzy, swimming into each other and locking beaks to grab at the food.

Ozai let out a small huff of amusement. "All right, I guess that's a little entertaining."

"I told you." She wiped off her hands and peered back up at him, starting to feel uncomfortable with how he was still looming over her while she remained seated. Even if she'd elected not to tell Azulon about his little prank gone wrong, she couldn't forget that he was the reason she'd suffered such an illness during her first week of marriage.

"Your lip is looking better already," he said abruptly. "Is the burn healing fine?"

"Yes, thank you." A cold press and a good night's rest could work wonders.

"Iroh spoke to me this morning." He finally moved to sit next to her, looking a bit hesitant about lowering his fine robes into the dirt. "He said you're sending that guard to the Boiling Rock."

"I am. You did give me the idea."

"He also told me what you decided about me."

Ursa nodded, waiting for him to finish his thought.

"I want to thank you," he said very softly. "I know he spoke to you about the Box and…I don't wish for you to pity me, but I won't lie and say I'm not glad you're not putting me in there."

One of the turtleducks swam to her babies with a mouthful of peas and dropped them into the water, allowing the turtleducklings to practice finding food. The scene made her smile as she formulated her response to Ozai's very vulnerable moment of gratitude. "It's not just pity, if that makes you feel any better. I think a punishment should fit the crime. What Tiron did is irredeemable, so he gets the Boiling Rock. What you did was foolish, but I don't believe it merits such measures."

"What measures does it merit, then?" The little catch in his voice was unmistakable, no doubt put there by nerves.

"I'm not sure yet," she said honestly. "I'll likely wait until after the Autumn Festival to decide. I don't have room for much else on my mind with all the planning."

"Right. Makes sense."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy having the palace to yourself while Iroh and I are gone."

"It's alright, I guess. I get the training rooms whenever I want, but Dad also gives me more attention so…" he shrugged noncommittally, leaving the implications in the air.

Ursa decided to ask a question that she'd been too nervous to voice to anyone else. "Wouldn't you like to come on the Autumn Festival journey, Prince Ozai? You've never participated before." With anything else, she would've guessed Ozai simply wasn't interested, but he'd been very helpful with the tasting sessions and seemed to genuinely look forward to the festival. It puzzled her that he didn't have a bigger role as a prince.

Ozai turned on her so suddenly she flinched back. "Don't mock me," he snapped, eyes fiery and teeth bared. "I know I owe you, but I'd rather be thrashed by my father than be denigrated like this."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, refusing to be cowed into backing down. As far as she was concerned, she'd asked a perfectly reasonable question, and he had a lot of nerve losing his temper on her when she was doing him a favor.

Those burning eyes searched her confused face, and the snarl that was giving him a frightening resemblance to Azulon melted away just as suddenly as it had appeared. "You don't know."

"Don't know what? Prince Ozai-"

"I'm sorry, Sister," he muttered, getting to his feet with his gaze now resolutely turned away from her. "I shouldn't've raised my voice. Just…ask Iroh, I guess. He'll explain it better than me." He rubbed his eye, the gesture making him look quite boyish once again. It was clear he wasn't going to answer any other questions about whatever had upset him.

"I apologize if I offended you," Ursa said finally, still not sure what she was missing. "I didn't mean to."

He cast her yet another strange look; he did that a lot, although it was better than when he rolled his eyes at her. "Um, it's fine." With that, he turned on his heel and left her alone with the turtleducks.

It would be nice if just once she could have a conversation with Ozai that didn't end with her either wanting to yell at him or run away from him. For little moments here and there, he was actually quite decent. She was certain he was capable of more, if he could only get a handle on that teenage temper.

Maybe, like Ozai had said, Iroh could shed more light on the matter.

Ursa, cont.

Thinking of Ozai still fills me with anguish. It's nothing compared to what Iroh must feel, remembering the boy he believes he failed to protect and the man he became, but Ozai was not yet that man when I met him. He did intimidate me a bit, as I could see he had a temper and a deep resentment that Iroh did not, but as he went about trying to make amends to me for the Red Ash, I began to understand how the circumstances of his life had shaped him.

I was an only child, so it took me some time to grasp how unhealthy the sibling dynamic was between Iroh and Ozai, as well as how their father fed into it. Learning the complexities of those relationships was crucial for me to integrate myself into them, hopefully for the betterment of the royal family.

Even thirty years later, I still sometimes wonder if the aftermath of the Red Ash incident was the best way for things to play out. I know Iroh does as well. Looking back, it's easy for outsiders to argue that of course Ozai wanted to hurt me at my wedding, because that was the kind of person he was from childhood, and the behavior should have been nipped in the bud instead of swept aside by his guilt-ridden older brother. But even after everything Ozai has done, I still believe in my heart of hearts that the Red Ash in my tea was a genuine mistake. You are welcome to disagree with me, reader, but I ask you to remember that you did not know Ozai as a boy. I did. I was his sister.

"Again!"

Ursa flinched at the sound of Azulon's harsh yell ringing through the hall. Thankfully, it wasn't directed at her. Instead, it was floating in from the windows to the training grounds, where the guards had told her Iroh was. She'd been hoping to ask him about Ozai's strange behavior that morning, but the question didn't seem that urgent if it meant facing an angry Fire Lord.

"Prince Ozai," Azulon snarled, "if you know what's good for you, you'll stop testing my patience."

Her stomach dropped. Had Azulon somehow found out about the Red Ash?

"I'm trying!" Ozai's voice cracked as he defended himself.

"Iroh, show him again."

So Iroh was here. She risked a peek around the window and caught sight of her husband, producing a powerful jet of flame from each hand that propelled him into the air. He soared over Azulon and Ozai's heads and landed lightly on his feet.

"It's just about balance," Iroh said to his younger brother in a much more neutral tone than Azulon. "Distribute your firepower and your weight-"

"He knows the theory," Azulon cut him off, and Iroh's jaw clenched. "All the studying in the world won't make up for a lack of talent. Again, Prince Ozai."

Ozai's eyes remained trained on the ground as he attempted to mimic Iroh's move. Although he was able to make it into the air, he immediately careened off-center and crash-landed onto his shoulder. Ursa winced. He looked very vulnerable as he gingerly rolled onto his hands and knees. His bare back was painfully lean, the curve of his spine in the sunlight appearing nothing short of fragile.

"Blast it all, boy!" Azulon reached down and jerked him to his feet, his hand like a vice on Ozai's slim upper arm. "You are not leaving until you get this right. Iroh could fly across this entire arena when he was twelve."

Iroh's mouth only tightened further at the mention of his name, his displeasure at the scene evident in the small motion. Ursa wondered how frequently this sort of thing happened; Azulon usually had a shorter fuse with his younger son, but she had never seen him do more than raise his voice.

"Father," Iroh spoke up, "jet propulsion is a technique best performed fresh. Perhaps-"

"Leave your brother's instruction to me, Iroh. Don't forget, prodigious talent does not make up for inexperience."

"Of course, Father. In that case, I beg your leave to go have lunch. I'm not sure I can be of much more assistance here."

Ozai bowed his head, his arm still caught tight as Azulon granted Iroh's request with a dismissive wave.

Unable to bear watching anymore, and not wanting to risk one of them seeing her as Iroh left, Ursa tore her gaze away from the window and slumped back against the wall. She'd never heard the Fire Lord speak to his firstborn so harshly; Iroh was usually able to be jovial and contrarian with his father in a way no one else could. Clearly, Azulon was extraordinarily upset about something. She hoped it was nothing to do with her.

"What are you doing here?"

Ursa looked up with a start, blushing at being caught by a bare-chested Iroh. The cotton robe slung loosely over his shoulders, leaving his torso exposed, was his standard post-training attire; however, that didn't stop her from feeling flustered by his appearance every time she ran into him after a session.

"I was looking for you," she managed to respond.

There was still a hardness in his face that she wasn't used to seeing. He hadn't looked at her like that since their wedding day, back when they'd still been strangers. "You shouldn't have watched. Ozai feels humiliated enough without you joining his audience."

The admonishment made her face grow warmer. Of course he'd known she was there. She'd been foolish to think she could spy on the three mightiest firebenders in the world and get away with it.

"I'm sorry," she said, her gaze sliding away from him. Iroh had not once reproached her for any of the numerous other times she had accidentally breached royal etiquette. This new disapproval made her feel strangely ashamed.

He sighed, and Ursa registered him pinching the bridge of his nose out of the corner of her eye. "Don't be. I'm wrong to scold you. It's not your fault my father's in a bad mood today."

"I should have known better."

"The training grounds are extremely visible. Any passerby in the palace can watch what's happening. It's part of why my father likes to harangue Ozai here." There was the barest trace of resentment in his voice. "Just…try to keep walking if you see something like that again, okay?"

"Okay. I promise, I'll remember."

"You said you were looking for me?"

"Oh, yes. Ironically, I…I wanted to ask you something about Ozai." In the background, she could hear Azulon launching into another beratement. "I had a bit of a strange conversation with him earlier, and he seemed to think I should talk to you."

Iroh's thick eyebrows furrowed into a small frown. Ursa wished he would smile to ease the knot of nerves in her stomach; she did not enjoy feeling this way around him, especially when they'd been getting along so well recently. "Should this be a private talk?" he asked.

"Probably."

"Let's do it over lunch, then. Once I've made myself more presentable." He finally tied the robe into a loose knot around his waist, thankfully obscuring the distracting lines of his muscular abdomen. "Is that fine?"

"Of course. Where should I meet you?"

He tilted his head as he considered the question, a hint of a smile finally gracing his mouth before he spoke. "I need to get out of the palace for a while. Be at the gates in half an hour. Wear something comfortable that you wouldn't mind dusting up a bit."

Relief, and a nervous anticipation, prompted her own answering smile. "Okay."

Ursa was hardier than he'd expected, scrabbling up the trail without need for assistance. To be fair, she was breathing heavily, but her face was alight with an energy he'd never seen before. It occurred to him that she hadn't left the palace at all since becoming his wife. As spacious as it was, he knew better than anyone how stifling it could be.

"What?" she panted, cheeks a bit red from exertion as she joined him at the top of the hill. "Am I that out of shape?"

"I was actually thinking the opposite. Like I said last night, I wasn't aware I had such a tough wife."

"This is on the smaller side of the hills I used to climb in Hira'a. They had some rare herbs that wouldn't grow in my mother's greenhouse, so she would have me fetch them."

"Your mother's a herbalist?" He hadn't really paid much thought to the magistrate's wife's occupation, even though she was the Avatar's daughter. As nice as her greenhouse was, he'd sort of assumed it was for pleasure.

"Yes, the best in the area. People come from miles around to see her." Ursa looked proud for a moment, and then it was washed away in a melancholy downturn of her lips. "In any case, I obviously haven't been climbing in a while. And I've never had to do it in this." She held her arms out and peered down at her fine red gown with clear distaste.

"I told you to wear something comfortable." In anticipation of the climb, he had donned a day tunic and trousers instead of his usual palace robes.

"This is the most comfortable outfit I have."

"Well, summon the tailor for some other ones when you get back. You're a princess, remember?"

Repeatedly pointing out her status made him feel not unlike a parrothawk, but he'd realized that Ursa was not the type to abuse her privileges, or even take advantage of them. He suspected some of that was because she didn't realize she had them.

"Yes, I suppose," she conceded. She looked out at the view of the palace and the capital city, a summer breeze gently blowing through her long hair. "I didn't know this was up here. Or that we could even come here."

"I've come here since I was a boy, to meditate or have some alone time. Father's never said a word about it."

"Well, thank you for inviting me along. It's very nice."

As she smiled at him, he noted that her torn lip and small facial cuts had thankfully scabbed over. Some of his lingering tension melted away. Training with his father and brother was always high-pressure; adding Azulon's bad mood over some escaped waterbender had only served as the inevitable spark for everyone's fiery tempers to rise. Snapping at Ursa afterwards only highlighted how upset he'd gotten during the session, and he'd immediately regretted it. At least she didn't seem to be holding it against him.

"Of course. Come, sit." He shook out the picnic blanket he'd rolled up under his arm and spread it beneath a shady tree, lowering the basket of food onto it carefully. Ursa settled herself on one side, gazing at the view again.

"I've really missed being outdoors," she said suddenly. "Like…properly in nature, not just in a garden. I didn't realize it until just now."

Iroh felt a small twinge of guilt for not noticing her longing for the outdoors; it should've been obvious, considering how much of her free time she spent in the royal gardens. "You can always come here without me, you know. You'd just have to bring some guards."

She wrinkled her nose slightly before carefully schooling her expression. "It's not the same. Isn't that why you told your guards to stay at the bottom of the hill?"

"Well, I can get away with that because I can take care of myself. So if you'd prefer to enjoy the outdoors without the guards hovering, we can carve out some time to do that during the Autumn Festival."

Another smile lifted her lips. "I would like that."

Lunch was a simple affair, considering there was only so much that could be packed into a picnic basket and still taste good: dumplings, scallion pancakes, bok choy, and red bean buns for dessert. The buns in particular had been a deliberate request for Aisha since Iroh knew they were Ursa's favorite. His efforts were rewarded when she caught sight of them and her eyes lit up.

"I love these!"

I know, he responded silently, but he just laughed as she nearly burned her fingers in her haste to grab a still-hot wrapped bun. "Don't rush, Princess. They're yours to enjoy."

She flashed him an embarrassed grin and picked up one of the scallion pancakes instead. "Sorry. I'm used to having to fight for the good desserts at festivals back home."

Apparently, all it took was one trip out of the palace for her to slip into old habits. Her speech and posture had relaxed, and she ate her food without the tiny, restrained bites she normally utilized at palace dinners. Iroh wondered if she even realized she was doing it, or if her actress' body subconsciously adjusted to the change in scenery as a new stage.

"What was your favorite festival?" he asked.

"The summer solstice. It had the best food and shows by far."

"I like the summer solstice too. It's a very grand celebration in the capital. You'll see it next year." This year's summer solstice had passed about a week or so before Iroh had gone with his father to fetch his new bride, and his mood during the event had been marred by his impending wedding. At least she'd gotten to enjoy the solstice in her hometown one last time before being married off to him.

Ursa seemed to be having a similar thought as she chewed in silence for a moment. "Even bigger than the Autumn Festival?" she asked eventually.

"Yes. But it's close; my father does love the Autumn Festival best, after all."

The sun slicing through the branches gave an almost shimmering glow to Ursa's dark dress and pale skin, each breeze that rattled the tree making the specks of light dance across her form. Iroh was grateful she was more focused on the food and the view than him because he was having trouble pulling his gaze away from her. It was just the light, he told himself, and his lingering concern over the previous night's injuries. Plus, he'd always been aware she was an attractive woman, so it wasn't like this was a new development-

"Ozai said something to me, about the Autumn Festival," she interrupted his erratic thoughts. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Right. "What did he say?"

"Well…I asked him if he wanted to come on the Autumn Festival journey. He got very angry and accused me of mocking him. Then he seemed to get that I didn't know what he was upset about, so he apologized and said I should ask you to explain." She shrugged. "Care to enlighten me?"

Iroh sighed. This was a very touchy subject for Ozai, and it appeared no one had made sure she knew not to talk to him about it. "He's not allowed to go on the Autumn Festival, even though he'd very much like to. My father forbids it."

"What? Why?"

"Officially, he says it's poor policy for both the heir and the spare to travel together. Unofficially…" Iroh trailed off, not wanting to rehash the unfortunate history of the Fire Lord's contempt for the second prince.

"Unofficially what?"

"Unofficially, he doesn't want Ozai partaking in something so closely associated with our mother."

Ursa frowned, confusion clear in her face as she wiped away a bit of dumpling sauce from her mouth. "Why not? You get to."

Something like nausea swirled in Iroh's gut as he stared at her, realizing just how much she didn't know. This wasn't the conversation he'd wanted to have this afternoon, and it threatened to drag his mood back into the tense training grounds with his father and brother. "Ursa," he said finally, "do you know how my mother died?"

"She passed away from an illness, didn't she? A long time ago."

Iroh picked up a now-warm red bean bun, deciding he needed the sweet to get through these memories. "Something like that." He unwrapped it and took a bite, savoring the rich, nutty texture in his mouth before he spoke again. "In my father's eyes, though, Ozai killed her."

He couldn't bring himself to look at Ursa, but it wasn't hard to picture her reaction: her eyes widening, her eyebrows raising slightly in shock, her lips parting with a question that she hesitated to ask. "How?"

"She died giving birth to Ozai. And my father has never forgiven him for living at her expense." The bitterness of the words couldn't be alleviated by the bun. "So Ozai doesn't get to go on the Autumn Festival, or take music lessons, or even throw a birthday party, because those are all things that belonged to my mother first, and the Fire Lord believes Ozai doesn't deserve to enjoy them."

"That's-" Ursa cut herself off, and Iroh finally allowed himself to turn to her. She took a breath and looked down at her hands. "That's…difficult to hear," she said more evenly, formality returning to her tone. "I've noticed the Fire Lord varies in his treatment of you and Ozai. I was just never certain of why, besides that you're the heir and he's not."

"It certainly doesn't help that he's the second son. I'm surprised no one told you that history, but I suppose I should be grateful that there are some things the servants don't gossip about." Perhaps that was why Ursa had been able to warm up to him: because she didn't know the full story of his and Ozai's childhood. He pushed the picnic basket towards her and gestured for her to take a red bean bun.

"You protect him," she noted as she accepted his offer. "You did it at the training session, you did it with the Box…even at dinner, you argue with him all the time, but you try to keep your father from doing the same."

"Yes. I try to, at least."

She bit into the bun and sighed. "And sometimes your father gets angry with you for doing it. Like earlier."

"Well, yes, but I have nothing to fear. My father has never punished me the same way as he does Ozai."

"Still," she shrugged, "it's a very brave thing to do for your brother. And very kind."

She wouldn't think that if she knew everything. "It's not much.".

"You're trying to do more, aren't you?"

The question gave him pause. Was he trying to do more? He shielded Ozai from their father's foulest moods, and he'd begun training with him regularly; aside from that, his efforts weren't that great. Then again, even that much was a vast improvement over what he'd been doing for his brother even a year or two ago. And Ursa had asked as if it was a given, as if she was certain he was trying.

"Yes," he said, a little hesitantly.

Fortunately, that seemed to satisfy her, and she turned her attention to polishing off her bun. Her tongue flicked out and licked a few crumbs from the crook between thumb and pointer finger before she caught herself and blushed. Iroh blinked, trying to pretend it hadn't affected him even as he felt his own face grow warm.

"Force of habit," she said quietly as she lowered her hand. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Aisha would be delighted to see you relishing her food."

"Well, it's easy to do." She reached into the picnic basket and let out a disappointed gasp. "Oh, I think this is the last one."

"Really?" He could've sworn he'd asked Aisha to pack four.

"Mm-hm." She pushed the basket towards him so he could confirm. "You take it."

"Absolutely not. I'm certain you like these more than me."

"But this was your idea."

"Ursa, I'm not going to eat it. You can have it, or you can let it go to waste."

The pout she directed at him was decidedly informal and practically childish, yet it sent an unexpected thrill through his being. Her lips were not painted, wounded as they were, but that didn't detract from their fullness.

"Fine," she said with a huff, thankfully interpreting his silence as stubbornness rather than distraction. "Here, at least share it with me." She picked up the bun and carefully tore it in two.

"If you insist, Princess." He strategically grabbed the smaller piece despite her attempts to give him the bigger one. Somewhere above them, a breeze dislodged a flurry of leaves, blowing a few into her hair. She shook them away, looking up at the tree above her as she finished her dessert.

"This is a lovely oak," she said. "Does someone care for it?"

"Not that I know of. It's just always been here."

"It'll stay here for a long time, then, if humans leave it alone." She touched its trunk fondly.

"I hope so."

A moment passed of just Ursa brushing her fingers over the rough bark, clearly contemplating something. "Do you think there's anything I could do for Ozai?" she asked suddenly.

Of course that's what was on her mind. "You're already protecting him from my father too," he reminded her. "You can't bring him on the Autumn Festival, if that's what you're hoping for. And Ozai is a prince. He has his pride. He won't want any pity you have for him, especially not now that he owes you."

"Yeah, he already told me something like that."

Her wry tone made him smile as he responded, "Just…treat him as you normally would. You've always been perfectly nice to him, even though he's a hothead and an occasional moron. He'll be insulted if you change your behavior now."

She nodded slowly. "That makes sense." Her fingers left the tree, and she leaned back against it to peer out at the city beneath them once more. "Do you have to go back to the palace soon?"

Honestly, he probably did, to check if Ozai ever figured out jet propulsion and if Father's temper had simmered down yet. "No. We can stay as long as you like."

Golden eyes were common in the Fire Nation, but as Ursa smiled at Iroh gratefully, he noticed that her eyes were a few shades lighter than average, making them look like little drops of the sunshine dancing across her face.

Sunshine eyes.

It was a beautiful sight.

A/N: shorter chapter, I know, but I didn't want you guys to go without content for too long. Question - would you rather have a shorter chapter every week or a longer chapter every 2-3 weeks?

~Bobbi